Promises
by sinking815
Summary: She doesn't know where her feet are taking her, she just hopes they can outrun her thoughts. Because this is the only way Kate Austen can deal with her heart... so she runs. JK S3 Slight spoilers. Oneshot.


_Promises _  
_By Sinking815_  
_January 1st, 2007_

_A/N: Slight spoilers for the return of Lost but nothing major. This just popped into my head after I saw the new teaser ABC released today after the Outback Bowl. Seriously I can't wait for February 7th… it just seems like it can't get here fast enough. I typed this in about 45 minutes and was too tired to edit so if there are mistakes, I apologize. As always please read and review._

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_"Promise me…"_

She runs. And she doesn't know where her feet are taking her or if there even is a destination at the end of this panicked bolt. She just hopes that they'll outrun her thoughts, that eventually she'll fall to the ground, unable to move, or think, or breathe. Because this is the only way Kate Austen knows how to deal with her heart. So she runs.

Her hands fist at her side, punching the cool night air that whistles past her as she races like a bat out of Hell. She's trying not to listen, but she can hear his voice whispering the last words she heard. And that makes her legs pump that much harder, her bare feet dig into the sand that much deeper. She's cracking and she knows it.

_"Promise me…"_

She chokes back another painful rush of air and winces as its coldness bites viciously into her stomach. Her teeth grind audibly past the sting and she curses the stitch needling its way into her side. But this kind of agony is welcome. It takes the place of the painful pulsing in each beat of heart and as long as she can avoid that unbearable torture, she'll keep running.

_"Promise me that you'll…"_

His voice is closer now and for a second, Kate whips her head around, almost expecting him to be right behind her. But there's nothing but a darkened trail of disturbed beach where her feet ravaged the tide-smoothed sand. When she stumbles, she lets out a frustrated cry and scrambles to find her balance. He's always had a way of doing that—tripping her up when she fell back into her life as a fugitive.

Her eyes find the tranquil stretch of beach ahead and she barely glances to the side when she passes the groves where they met so many weeks ago. But she's determined to not let that memory resurface and drown her too, so she doubles her speed, ignoring what she knows are tears spilling over her cheeks and mixing with her sweat. She's worked so hard to suppress them that she almost doesn't feel their slow fall to the front of her tanktop.

Almost.

_"I let the fear in…"_

She's losing to him, just like she always does, and she thinks that maybe if she doubled back on her tracks, she could lose his memory. He was never good at tracking and maybe his ghost won't be much of a tracker either.

Her feet slow on their own, or at least she doesn't remember asking them to stop. Yet step by step, her stride shortens. Her chest doesn't heave. Her arms drop limply to her sides. Her hands find her knees and she lets herself stand still, gasping air and choking on fear.

_"I let it take over, let it do it's thing. But only for five seconds…"_

So she counts. Because she can also remember a time when that worked.

"_That's all I was gonna give it."_

Almost better than running ever did.

One.

"_Two."_

But his voice is still with her.

Three.

His memory is still with her.

"_Four."_

And this time she breaks, because five seconds without him is not acceptable anymore.

Her legs have taken off back in the direction she's come, retracing her steps, redisturbing the sand. As she runs, Kate feels as if she's running backwards through time. With every step, she falters a little bit more and a little bit more. Living in the past is not going to bring him back.

_"Promise me that you'll never come back…"_

She's doing exactly what he asked her not to do. And maybe she can't get to that island, but this time she knows where she can find him. Where she can collapse and let herself be weak. So she just runs, willing herself to get there before she breaks down completely.

_"Promise me…"_

The wind seems to have changed direction, blowing the sand back into her eyes and the loose strands of rebellious hair forward into her face. She can't comprehend that what she's feeling isn't even possible, that the wind can only work in one direction. But that's the last thing Kate could care about.

Something warm trickles its way down her bare arms and she can feel it drip heavily away from her elbow. She swallows past the smell of iron in the air, her stomach roiling with the heady way it mixes with over-ripe mangoes and salt. She can almost taste the blood as she swallows past the sting of bile in the back of her throat.

_"Promise me…"_

Kate can't take the weight anymore and she's helpless to her exhaustion. Her legs buckle beneath her and she collapses in the deep sand. She lies there for a long moment, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the grit of sand in her hair and on her cheeks. A strangled cry of anguish almost spooks her until a heavy gasp makes her realize that the sound came from her.

She struggles to sit up, finding that the strength has abandoned her limbs just like his voice seems to have disappeared too. Kate rakes her fingers through her tangled and twisted hair, pulling it from the tracks of tears where it has plastered itself to her face. And as she glances up to gather her pathetic self, her pounding heart lurches at the shadow before her.

It's his tent and she wants to scream but something catches the grief in her throat before it can make itself heard. She just sits and stares.

The wind picks up and she hears his voice return with it. Its softness sends a shiver down her throat and she breathes deeply, closing her eyes and letting herself bask in a presence that she knows is not there.

"_You know where to find me."_

Her feet are out of her control again and somehow her arms have joined the rebellion because they push her up with a strength she thought she had lost. She walks toward the flapping tarp and each step is purposeful, like she knows what's driving her forward. As she slips inside, she winces at the idea of her intrusion, but something in her heart tells her, she could never intrude on him.

_"Promise me…"_

It takes a minute for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, but already she can feel her pulse slow a beat and her breathing calm to a steadier pace. Whatever strength she found escapes her grasp again, and she sinks to the ground, her knees pressing themselves to the dishelved version of his makeshift bed.

Somehow she finds her hands clutching his thin airline blanket with a white-knuckled grip so strong, she's shaking. Her shaky breaths sound hollow and weak compared to the blood pounding in her ears as she reaches with a trembling hand to the corner of his tent.

It doesn't surprise her that she's staring down at a white button-down shirt with a faded but visible brown stain on the left side. She holds it for what seems to be forever, caught somewhere between memories she doesn't want to remember and dreams she wishes she never dreamed. There's that moment with him on the beach, where he tells her everyone deserves a second chance. There's the night he handed it to her wordlessly when she shivered as the fire died before them. There's the dream she remembered relieving him of its flirtatious touch…

"_Promise me that you'll never come back here for me."_

Kate closes her eyes as the tears burn a fresh path down her cheeks. She hugs the shirt to her chest, folding it with her arms and holding herself, wishing she hadn't failed him again. She knows she hasn't truly broken her word. She hasn't gone back for him. But she knows eventually she will.

Because the only other thing Kate Austen knows how to do better than running is breaking the promises she makes.


End file.
